


Not Too Late

by lesbianmedusa



Category: Home Fires (UK TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Home Fires 2016 Summer Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianmedusa/pseuds/lesbianmedusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alison sat at her desk, her fingers tapping idly against her mug of tea as her eyes skimmed over the new message she’d received on her Airbnb profile. This hadn’t been her idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fyhomefires' fic exchange; for @pea-green (on tumblr), the prompt was: 'Teresa rents a room through Airbnb while she finds her feet in a new town and accidentally falls in love with her landlady.'

Alison sat at her desk, her fingers tapping idly against her mug of tea as her eyes skimmed over the new message she’d received on her Airbnb profile. This hadn’t been her idea. In fact, the tentative thread of messages she was now sharing with a complete stranger who wanted to rent a room in her little cottage was entirely down to months of Frances’ pestering. She’d first brought it up in passing to Alison after a couple she knew had rented out their house whilst they spent two months in their villa in Italy over summer. Alison had rolled her eyes a little at that example, firmly reminding Frances that she didn’t really have the space; this couple’s house was probably triple the size of Alison’s cottage and she had no plans to leave her home unoccupied whilst she holidayed in Italy or wherever. Alison had hoped, naively, that that would be the last she heard of Frances’ entrepreneurial plans for her cottage. Inevitably, Frances mentioned it a week later, and every week after until Alison finally caved in; Frances’ well-meaning stubbornness triumphing over Alison’s resolve that this was an absurd idea. Maybe she was lonely, as Frances had suggested on one occasion; she was always adamant that she liked the peace and quiet that came from living alone on the outskirts of the village but, reluctantly, she could admit that there might be some truth to what Frances had said... So here she was now, typing out a quick reply to confirm her first booking before she had the chance to change her mind and do something drastic like delete her entire profile and vow to never listen to Frances Barden ever again. Get a grip Alison, she thought to herself as she pressed send and closed her laptop, groaning as she realised her tea was now stone cold.

* * *

 

Teresa fiddled absentmindedly with the strap of her suitcase as she stood waiting for someone to open the door. She’d walked fifteen minutes or so from the centre of the village where her bus had dropped her off, enjoying the walk; already Teresa had come to the conclusion that autumn felt better here than it did in the city, crisper somehow, less monotonous and suffocating. Two minutes later, still no answer, and Teresa was starting to worry that she’d misread Google Maps and turned up at the wrong house. She decided to knock on the door, considering that maybe it was just that the doorbell was broken, and soon enough Teresa could hear a dog barking from inside the house. Alison hadn’t mentioned that she had a dog...god, maybe she was at the wrong house after all. Before she had time to panic a woman had opened the door, clinging a scruffy-looking dog to her side, “I’m afraid he’ll jump up at you if I let him go, he’s a bit of an old man but I think he forgets that. You must be Teresa! I’m Alison, this is Boris,” she said with a hesitant smile, patting the dog beside her.

Teresa breathed a sigh of relief and shook the hand Alison was offering to her, “Nice to meet you, Alison. I heard the barking and almost thought I had the wrong place.”

Alison looked from Teresa to Boris and back again, slowly realising she’d completely forgot to put him on her Airbnb profile; she blushed at her mistake, forgetting to advertise that she owned a dog seemed like a fairly big omission, even for a novice. “Oh goodness I’m sorry; I don’t know how I forgot to mention him.” The dog in question was slumped by Alison’s side now, she looked at Teresa nervously, “Please don’t tell me you’re allergic to dogs?”

“Nope, no complaints here, I love dogs!” Teresa laughed, leaning down to stroke Boris who immediately greeted her by jumping up and licking her.

“Well, Boris certainly seems to have taken to you.” Alison said somewhat apologetically, relieved though that Teresa seemed so friendly; she’d ended up in the depths of the internet reading stories about nightmare guests whilst doing some ‘research’ before she signed up but, if first impressions were anything to go by, Alison thought her and Teresa would get on just fine. 

* * *

 

Several hours and multiple cups of tea later Alison had already learnt one very valuable piece of information about Teresa: she was a terrible cook.

“I really am sorry about your saucepan, Alison.” Teresa said, glancing guiltily over at the burnt saucepan which they’d left to soak in the sink.

Alison shook her head, reprimanding her gently but firmly, “And I told you I believed you the first time you said that, please do stop apologising, I’ve got other saucepans.”

In the end they’d managed to dig out two tins of soups from the back of Alison’s cupboard and were now sitting down to their simple, but at least edible, meal. They continued to eat in a comfortable silence until, “I’m really hoping this doesn’t turn out to be poisoned.”

Alison looked up and frowned, decidedly confused by the turn in conversation, “I don’t think I’m following...”

Teresa continued, “Cottage on the outskirts of the village? Perfect spot for said village’s evil murderer, if you ask me.” Alison was starting to question her initial impression of her new housemate before Teresa burst into a grin and put her out of her misery, “Sorry, overactive imagination, that’s what my mum’s always said. Well, that and the pretty impressive Agatha Christie collection on your bookshelf.”

Alison smiled, finally catching on, “Ah, I didn’t realise I was letting Poirot rent my spare room.”

“More of a Miss Marple fan myself.” Teresa replied, matching Alison’s smile. 

* * *

 

Later, as she lay in bed trying to get to sleep, Alison realised this was the first time in fifteen years or so that someone other than her and Boris had slept in the cottage. She looked over to her bedside table, still just about able to pick out the framed picture of her George in the darkness. It’d be sixteen years next May since he died. The thought shocked Alison and sometimes, when she could bring herself to linger on it, she hated herself for all the time she’d let pass her by.

In the room next door Teresa was willing her brain to switch off so she could get some sleep but a combination of the oddness of sleeping in a brand new place and other niggling thoughts were keeping her up. She tried hard not to think of home or of Connie but now, lying in the dark in a different bed with time to think, it felt like all her impulsive decisions of the past week were coming to the surface, ready to be called into question. Trying to suppress her doubts she instead turned her thoughts to Great Paxford and hoped that it really would be the new start she needed.

* * *

 

During the day life carried on more or less as usual for Alison; she did her bookkeeping, visited her regular clients, and walked Boris. The only difference now was her mornings and evenings. Rather than reading the newspaper first thing she and Teresa chatted companionably over tea and toast until it was time for Teresa to get to work. She’d taken up a last minute position at the local primary school after a heart attack had sent one of the teachers into an early retirement; last minute enough, from what she’d told Alison, that she hadn’t had the chance to find somewhere more permanent to live yet.

In the evenings Alison cooked dinner, with Teresa keen to help where she could and insisting she’d do the washing up afterwards as repayment. They’d already got into the habit of Alison reading in her armchair whilst Teresa sat on the sofa doing marking or planning lessons (since it was halfway through the term they’d thrown Teresa in the deep end but, so far, she was taking it all in her stride). It amused Alison that Boris, who was usually unwaveringly loyal to her, had already taken to alternating between sitting by Alison’s feet and jumping on the sofa to curl up next to Teresa. Although she couldn’t blame him for loving the new attention and she had to admit there was something endearing about the way Teresa was always caught by surprise and immediately put down her marking whenever he flopped down beside her. A few days after Teresa’s arrival they’d also discovered that they shared a mutual love for Call the Midwife whilst flicking through Netflix for something to watch and they now seemed to be in the process of re-watching the entire series together. Teresa tended to tear up whenever there was a particularly emotional birth scene and Alison pretended not to notice but had started to keep a box of tissues nearby, just in case. Alison recalled that she’d once had an English teacher who was exactly like Sister Monica Joan, “I think she just refused to retire and she was so stubborn no one could do anything about it.” Teresa had laughed at that, joking that she’d probably be the same in forty years time. Evenings had once been big blocks of time that made the day drag on but, with Teresa here, she found herself starting to enjoy her spare time rather than dread it.

Alison didn’t want to be nosy but she couldn’t help but think as two weeks passed that Teresa seemed like the kind of person who would be missed if she just upped and left the city to move to the middle of nowhere. As freely as she talked about all other kinds of things with her Teresa hadn’t said much about her family or friends but, from personal experience, Alison knew how much she hated people who pried so she kept her thoughts to herself. 

* * *

 

Teresa had been staying with Alison for just over three weeks before she first spoke about home in any detail. They were out walking Boris together, another of Alison’s routines which Teresa had ended up adopting, and were chatting easily about nothing in particular; Alison never realised how far they had walked until Boris started lagging behind and eventually point-blank refused to walk any further. That evening they had reached almost as far out as Steph’s farm, which was just about visible in the distance, when Boris stopped and sat down on the grass. They both tried to chivvy him back onto his feet but even the bribe of a dog biscuit wasn’t enough to do the trick and so they joined him on the grass, admitting defeat. Neither of them said much for awhile. It was nice just to sit and feel the stillness that the Great Paxford evenings allowed; there was a slight breeze, the grass around them ruffling every now and again, and the sky was turning a warm pink.

“I used to go on walks with Connie all the time back home,” Teresa said, almost whispering as if speaking any louder would be intrusive, “Not down country lanes and through fields, obviously, but in parks and botanic gardens, places like that.”

“Is Connie a friend of yours?” Alison asked, thinking Teresa looked wistful at the memory.

“A work colleague, we taught at the same school.” Teresa replied, pausing to glance at Alison before deciding to continue, “Actually, no, that’s not completely true; we were together, for awhile, too.”

“Oh,” Alison was less surprised by the fact that Teresa had had girlfriend – the look on her face whilst she spoke about her made more sense now – and more surprised that Teresa had chosen to tell her about it at all, “How long’s awhile?”

“Almost three years,” Teresa said, “We wanted different things in the end, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Her words felt underwhelming, she wanted to say more but didn’t know what else there was to say. She settled for placing her hand on Teresa’s arm, like an act of solidarity.

“It’s fine, honestly, but thank you Alison.” Teresa said sincerely with a small smile, “I know it probably sounds silly, and please stop me if I start embarrassing myself, but I just wanted to say I’m really glad I found your profile on Airbnb. I came here on a bit of an impulse and I think I probably would’ve bottled it if you hadn’t turned out to be so kind, so thank you for that too.”

Boris chose this moment to whine and clamber to his feet, Teresa joked, “And, of course, getting to meet Boris has been an honour as well.”

Alison blushed, flustered by the compliment and Teresa’s sincerity. “That’s not silly at all –,” she started, unsure what to say next and when Boris started barking she was almost relieved, “Let’s go home, shall we?” 

* * *

 

A couple of days later Alison and Teresa were sat next to each other on the sofa; Boris had commandeered Alison’s armchair for the evening. Alison was peering over her glasses as she looked over some of her accounts, a cup of tea in her hand and a packet of biscuits sat between the two of them. As Teresa sat reading one of Alison’s books she was struck by the domesticity of this set-up and how familiar it had become to her; this wasn’t something she had anticipated that day when she’d first turned up at Alison’s door. She’d wondered if Alison had noticed it too, whether she was as surprised as she was by how quickly they had become so easy in each other’s company.

Interrupting Teresa’s thoughts Alison said, “Right. I think that’s me done for the night.” She closed her laptop and took off her glasses.

“I should probably head up too, busy day tomorrow.” Teresa replied, she had her first parents’ evening, gathering her things and following Alison up the stairs.

They reached the landing, said their ‘goodnights’ and were about to go to their respective rooms when Teresa said, “Wait, Alison.” She stopped. Had they been standing that close before? She took a small step back and was ready to mumble a ‘never mind’ before ducking into her room, closing the door and guiltily hoping that Alison couldn’t somehow read her mind.

Alison regarded her and – Teresa had thought it on occasions before, in the back of her mind – her blue eyes were piercing; not in a way that made her feel judged or stared down but in a way that made her feel as though Alison was trying to piece something together. Alison took the slightest step forward, paused, and then placed a tentative kiss on Teresa’s lips. Teresa almost laughed, thinking ridiculously that maybe Alison could read her mind after all and Alison seemed to visibly relax when she saw the hint of a smile. When she kissed her back she could feel Alison’s smile against her lips.

“So does this mean you’ll be staying a little longer?” Alison joked, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright, almost shy now.

Teresa laughed, “If you can put up with me.”

“Well,” Alison begun seriously but her eyes gave her away, “I’ll have to check with Boris first but I think I probably can.”


End file.
